An obligation is an action that one is morally or legally bound to take. Are we downright obligated to divulge the intimate details of our lives to desperate strangers? My integrity is inspired by the world’s indisputable involvement with insanity. I believe that telling the truth is therapeutic, and therapy ain’t nothin’ but being honest to heal from heartache and hardships. Additionally, I think that less people would need therapy to cope with internal conflict and confusion if cowardice wasn’t communal. “Don’t let people see you down,” “smile even when you want to frown,” “you’re royal even if you’re not wearing a crown,” and other appeasing affirmations and advice aren’t helpful when one is hopeless. And hopelessness is helped by hoity-toity hoes who don’t honor honesty. People pretend when they aren’t proud of who they are, right? Reprobates readily rebuffing realness is a regular part of our reality. And without proper principles, the pretentious and pretending people who’re pumping poison and promoting phoniness will prosper. With that in mind but slightly switching subjects, spies and snooping stupid motherfuckers are liars for life. And depending on my mood, if I find that a meddling, messy, or nosy nobody is fishing for facts, I might ignore their queries, inform them, or indulge myself. In other words, if a prying person approaches me posing questions about shit that ain’t got nothin’ to do with them, either I ain’t telling them shit, telling the truth if I feel like it, or just saying the first thing that comes to my mind. Mind your motherfucking business, bitch! The Feds are overtly operating as if I don’t know that I’m under surveillance, like I’m unaware that they have “Agent Smiths” everywhere I go, and as though I’m not clever enough to counter their unintelligence with actual intelligence. The bald-headed beggar selling those big-ass shoes at the gas station, the carless older men walking down the street, the dirt bikes and four-wheelers blaring past my window whenever I’m meditating, the little dark-skinned gay dude at Walmart, the small black lady and her daughter blocking me from the isle, the people pretending to talk on the phone with their cameras conveniently pointed directly at me, the dealership car salesman and the private sellers, the Teslas tailing me and always being parked in my vicinity when I’m out, the spy glasses you put on damn-near everybody that you anticipate me interacting with, the old neighbors, the new neighbors, the little chick who needed a place to stay, the various song lyrics pertaining to the blackmail you’ve orchestrated and crimes you’ve committed against me, the numerous women you’ve attempted to send at me who all just so happen to have YouTube channels, and we all know the list is a lot longer. Those are just some of the “if you know, you know” situations and scenarios that I’ve seen, suffered through, and are seemingly stuck in. If you want to test someone’s respect for boundaries, ask an adult how much they know about another adult’s private affairs. If you’re discerning, I don’t have to elaborate on what exemplifies or demonstrates a person’s disrespect for others’ privacy. Plus, pointing out what pinpoints a person’s propensity for prying would just prompt the priers to pretend and portray peace-keepers. Be yourselves, please. There are punk-ass, petty-ass, puerile-ass, phony-ass, perpetrating-ass people—pretenders who are polar opposites of me—reading this right now who recognize my intelligence, integrity, and inspirational nature as being characteristic of who they wish they were or falsely claim to be. And those forgeries foolishly model themselves after me while suggesting that I’m somehow mimicking or mirroring them. Motherfuckers, please! You niggas are indefinitely insecure, immature, intrusive, and idiotic because that’s who the fuck you are at your cores. You’ve never wanted to be the level-headed, laudable, liable to spread love type, have you? My light and dark energies are naturally balanced. And my character is documented, as this is “Everybody’s Stupid” part 257 and the blog approaches 32 pages of posts. We are NOT the same!
Talking has always felt like a waste of time to me, especially as someone who has spent most of my life around people who weren’t listening, could never comprehend, or didn’t respect my highly-intelligent, provident, and profitable perspectives. And I bet y’all feel stupid as fuck now, don’t you? I’m sure some of you remember me telling you, regularly and repeatedly, that there’d come a time when you’d wish you would’ve listened to my reasoning and rationality. Instead, you let loudmouths and lamebrains lead you astray. Attributes of mental strength and stability are often misconceived because strong-minded and stable people are seldom unduly demonstrative. In other words, unintelligent people conceive confrontation and constant criticism as signs of courageousness and correctness instead of seeing said signs for what they are—characteristics of ignorance, immaturity, and emotional instability. Like the old saying goes, “the loudest person in the room is the weakest.” How many times do y’all need to hear that before you accept it? Assertiveness doesn’t require antagonism or being argumentative, age isn’t an automatic measure of a person’s level of knowledge and understanding, and aware or awoken people generally say less. External to expressing an explanation or carrying casual conversations, I believe that silence is a sign of strength. Confidence doesn’t require confirmation, as it exists even when no one notices it. Anyhoo, Donald Trump is the president that America deserves, and I hope he reigns until hell raises. To all the politicians, political correspondents, pontificating podcasters, opinionated pinheads, and impolitic news anchors, do you know how I know y’all are delusional? It’s because you’re still talking. Honestly, some of the harshest harangues I’ve heard have been hurled from the glorious holes of official persons and offensive professionals. What reasons do people have to get along? Ridiculous rhetoricians respond to rough and rude rhetoric with reciprocation, or react to reality roughly and rudely in anticipation of rough and rude responses. By the same token, plenty of imprudent people portray preposterous and pathetic personalities while proclaiming that being polite and pleasant is pointless on a planet that’s populated by pieces of shit. How many people understand that they frequently initiate, propagate, and perpetuate everything that they claim to hate? For example, if you denigrate and disgrace Donald daily because you dislike, disapprove of, and disagree with him, why the fuck would he like, approve of, or agree with you or your perceptions of him? You’re going to get what you give in this world, as that’s what your preemptive and predictable preposterous and pathetic personalities are for, right? Does anybody catch my drift? Some people are stupid out of spite, hence Kanye West. And if you’re only focusing on the mistakes and misfortunes of marvelous people, and all of their wins and wonderful accomplishments go unnoticed, you’re cultivating contempt and calling for continued callous criticism. People are steadily spiting me supremely for shit that they snaked their way into. For the record, I wouldn’t even be paying most of you any attention if the Feds weren’t forcing your content onto my feed. And I feel like those losers are lying to y’all—implying that I’m impressed with your continued clownish cooperation is this circus—as some of the tarot readers suggest that a slew of my haters stay shooting at me on social media. I barely browse social media, unless it’s YouTube or Marketplace. Again, address me directly or fuck you! People sometimes say that I seem to always get what I want. So, allow me to make a few requests. I want y’all to tell everyone, expressly and emphatically, what you’ve done to viciously victimize me and how long you’ve been doing it. After that, I want an apology. Then, I want y’all to cut those checks so I can stop hiding my scary-ass attorney and she can stop stalling and go back to living her life normally. Until then, y’all can suck my dick till you choke, then go fuck yourselves with a telephone pole! Fuck all y’all! Peace.